Damaged Goods
by Melinda H
Summary: Sara reflects upon the loss of Michael. After "The Final Break", but before the final scene in the 4th season.


Pain. Misery. Darkness. Emptiness. There were countless words to describe how Sara Tancredi felt as she watched the sun set on the shores of Costa Rica.

It was insanely beautiful, of course. The sound of the dark waves crashing into the sand could have been relaxing. The smell of the sea, the slight breeze on the warm summer night could have been ideal. The washes of purple and orange mixed and cast the world in a rosy hue could have been romantic or even magical if everything had gone according to plan.

But it hadn't.

Reality, like a knife, slid into her side. The world was cold, unfriendly, and unbeautiful to her eyes. She closed them, and a shiver rippled through her body, though not from the cold. Maybe if she kept them closed long enough, he would come back, saying that it had all been a mistake, that he was still alive. Saying that the blood tests were wrong, saying that he'd only just been minutes behind them at the prison. Saying that he loved her and would never, ever leave her again.

But he didn't. He was dead, and she knew it from the empty hole where her heart had been carved out.

In some ways, she could still feel his presence, and as she stood upon the beach with the sand between her toes, she imagined she felt his body heat, his touch just moments away, standing behind her. A breeze picked up a strand of her hair, and she fancied that it was his breath. But when she turned to look at him, after she had almost truly tricked herself into believing he was alive, he wasn't there.

Her eyes met the small house, more of a hut, really, that was now her and the baby's home. The lights were off, and it appeared to be a skeleton cloaked in the same despair that now consumed her. It was silly, but it made her think of the monsters that used to exist when she was little, hiding in dark corners and her closet. But this time her mother wasn't there to turn on the light, and as he sun crept lower beneath the waves, the more the irrational fear gripped her.

She was alone, completely alone in the world. Alone except for one little exception. She looked down at her stomach, which at first appeared to be quite normal. But she knew better, and a surge of strength coursed through her veins. Her sorrow was understandable, but she couldn't let it overcome her, if only for the baby's sake. And the darkness and fear... Well, that's what lamps were for, she supposed.

She sat down on the beach, watching the waves once more. Her mind wandered, all towards bleak places. Her world was coated with a grey coat of sadness like a layer of dust that separated her from everything else. She hugged her knees and began to talk.

"Michael, if you're listening... I love you." Her voice broke and she took a moment to collect herself. "I know I'm free now... Thanks to you. You did it all, Michael, you made it happen. And yet... it's almost worse if you're not here to enjoy it with me. You should be here, Michael. It's not fair." Tears of anger and frustration filled her eyes. "You should know your baby, and this baby should have a father. _I_ should have you. I guess that's what gets me the most... Knowing all the time we should have had but never got. The possibilities... kill me. We were supposed to be together, Michael," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "We were supposed to raise him or her together, be happy and free. Own a yacht and sail anywhere." She laughed despite herself, caught in a memory.

She fell quiet, and came to realize that she wasn't alone. Behind her, Lincoln was leaning against a palm tree watching her. He had probably heard everything. Sara wiped the tears from her face and tried to smile at him.

"You're not alone, you know," he said, sitting down next to her. "We all miss Michael. It shouldn't have turned out the way it did... But, knowing Michael, he would die a million times over if that meant you and the baby would be safe and free. Which you are," he reminded her. "Anyways, dinner is ready. Sofia's made rice and beans. She swears by it, but it still sounds pretty nasty to me." He stood up and brushed off the sand. Sara followed suit.

She shot one last glance to her empty house and headed next door to where she could hear L.J. and Sofia talk and laugh as they set the table. And as she shut the door to the house behind her, she couldn't help but feel a presence slip in between the cracks of the door, a presence that she knew would never leave her.


End file.
